


ashes to ashes

by umiyan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Stalking, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Time Skip, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, atsumu & oc are completely platonic, i messed up the ages so pretend that the twins are third-years during the nationals arc, idk how the japanese school schedule works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25777801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umiyan/pseuds/umiyan
Summary: Atsumu and his brother were popular in middle school. The girls flocked to cute boys who played sports, and the guys appreciated their sense of humor. He had to say though, they weren’t the most popular in their year. That title went to Fujiwara.--It was absolutely unfair. She was good at everything. Everyone loved her. She was good at volleyball, good at school, and as much as Atsumu hated to admit it, she was real cute, too. He would know, as a fellow cute person.--He’s done making excuses for her. Maybe she ghosted him, didn’t want to be friends anymore.--"Why didn’t ya ever talk ta me? Was I not worth that ta ya?”“Nothing’s the same anymore. I’m different. See things differently now.”
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Original Female Character, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	ashes to ashes

**Author's Note:**

> i'm back on my oc bs. anyway, i had an oc from hyogo and thought "what if she knew atsumu?" so that's what this absolute trainwreck is. 
> 
> ALSO! some behaviors portrayed in this work aren't healthy. please keep that in mind as you read.

Atsumu and his brother were popular in middle school. The girls flocked to cute boys who played sports, and the guys appreciated their sense of humor. He had to say though, they weren’t the most popular in their year. That title went to Fujiwara.

Junko Fujiwara was the captain of the girls’ volleyball team at their middle school. She was a cute girl who got along with everyone. Atsumu met her in his first year when they were trying out for volleyball.

\--

“Yer eyes look weird.” Osamu had punched his arm after he said that, but Fujiwara, bless her heart, took it in stride.

“Thank you very much!” Her smile could’ve powered the whole city. “You’re here for volleyball, right? What’s your name?” So Atsumu introduced himself and his twin to the girl with weird blue eyes and black hair. She was a spiker.

“No way.” Osamu, the hypocrite, was being just as rude, so Atsumu punched him back. Fujiwara laughed.

“You remind me of my little brother.” She turned her annoying, gigantic smile back on. “But wait and see. I might surprise you.” The boys’ and girls’ teams divided the gym for tryouts, and Fujiwara waved to them as she jogged to where the other girls were waiting. “Good luck!”

Neither of them were up when it was Fujiwara’s turn, so he and Osamu watched as she spiked every toss that was given to her with impossible force.

“Scaaary.” Atsumu shook his head. “Yer terrifyin’, Fuji.” The corners of her mouth turned up again. And there it was. Atsumu squinted, trying to block out her stupid, obnoxious smile.

“Thank you very much!”

\--

He should’ve known better when he and Osamu accepted her Instagram follow requests that night.

\--

As luck would have it, they were in the same class. Not just their first year, but in their second and third years too.

“We can’t get away from ya, Fuji.” Atsumu wasn’t exaggerating. The volleyball teams had to share the gym at practice, which means he and his brother were constantly victims of her vicious spikes.

Turns out, she was really great at math too. Atsumu grumbled as Osamu pulled him towards Fujiwara’s desk during the break.

“We’re hopeless,” his twin said. “Ya gotta help us with math.” That thousand-kilowatt smile flashed again.

“You can’t be that bad! Sit down, and show me where you’re having trouble.”

It was absolutely unfair. She was good at everything. Everyone loved her. She was good at volleyball, good at school, and as much as Atsumu hated to admit it, she was real cute, too. He would know, as a fellow cute person. All the boys from the other classes gazed at her like lovestruck idiots. Her popularity skyrocketed when it got out that she was going to a fancy high school in Tokyo on a volleyball scholarship.

“She’s makin’ us look bad!” Atsumu groaned in frustration. Osamu shrugged.

“She’s makin’ _you_ look bad. I’m not the one who tried ta compete with her.” Atsumu took his schoolbag and beat his twin over the head.

\--

“I think I’m gonna miss you two.” They were cleaning the gym after their last practice of middle school. “I don’t think I ever told you, but you’re my friends.” Atsumu laughed.

“Of course yer gonna miss me! Who knows ‘bout Samu, though?” Fujiwara ruffled his hair, because she knew he hated it.

“Ahh, shut your mouth. You better bring Inarizaki to Nationals, because I’m not gonna come visit you out here in the sticks.” Atsumu pulled her hand off of his head. She slung her arms around their shoulders, with him on one side and Osamu on the other.

“Of course.” Osamu rolled his eyes as he spoke. “Ya better make sure Honan qualifies, or we’ll kick yer butt.”

\--

As expected, Fujiwara moved to Tokyo. Atsumu saw the pictures of her decorated dorm room on Instagram. She looked like she was having a good time. Her social media was filled with pictures of her new life in the city. She was going to cute cafes, and playing volleyball in a state-of-the-art facility. And, as always, she was magnetic. People surrounded her in every picture, throwing up peace signs while eating pudding, or making faces at the camera while she tried to capture a panorama of the gym.

He would leave comments on her pictures, like any good friend would. Mostly about how she’s a city girl now, putting everyone back home in Hyogo to shame. In true Fujiwara fashion, she responded to every comment with a smiley face.

He wakes up to a text one morning.

**See you in Tokyo, country boy.**

\--

Atsumu made sure he watched Honan’s first match. Osamu was with him, and Aran had followed along. He smirked, satisfied, as the opposing team scattered out of the way of Fujiwara’s spike.

“There it is. Fuji’s got ‘em runnin’ scared now.” The other team took a time-out, and Atsumu caught her eye while waving. Her eyes crinkled up, and he sighed, because he knew what was coming next. He deliberately looked away, sticking his tongue out. Honan won, 2-0, and their victory was disgustingly easy, really.

After the tournament was over, Honan had placed second in the nation. Inarizaki was loading the bus to go to the airport when Fujiwara pulled him away and dragged him to a grassy hill on the side of the stadium. They sat together, watching the night sky, when she spoke quietly.

“I’m gonna be vice-captain next year. Coach already talked it over with the team and everything,” Atsumu gave her a hearty slap on the back.

“Congrats, Fuji. ‘M proud’a ya. Yer gonna be great. Kick yer snot-nosed underclassmen into shape, y’hear me?” She smiled her trademark Fujiwara smile, then pulled him into a hug.

“You’re an amazing friend, Atsumu. You know that?” He laughed and patted her back.

“Of course. How could I be anythin’ other than amazin’?” She pinched his arm and pulled away.

“I’ve gotta best friend that’s not you. Jealous?”

“’Issa ‘bout time ya leave the nest.” She rolled her eyes.

“Her name’s Miyuki. She doesn’t play volleyball, and everyone else in our class is scared of her, because she’s all buff and quiet.” Fujiwara looked up at the sky. “Next time you’re in Tokyo you should meet her. I want my best friends to meet each other.” He smirked back at her.

“Well, ya better bring Yuki-chan to Nationals next year, ‘cause we’ll be there. I bet the city boys are all babies anyway, ‘cause there’s no way I’ll be scared of her!”

“You better not be!” Her phone buzzed, and she opened the new message. “Crap, I gotta get back to the bus. Don’t you dare lose, Atsumu!” She ran off, waving behind her.

\--

As they finished up their first year, and transitioned into the next, Fujiwara’s pictures didn’t stop. Pictures where she was ugly-crying when the seniors graduated, and crying again when the upperclassmen took them out for ice cream. Pictures of her smiling with her friends at the school gate on the first day and watching old volleyball videos in her room.

Summer started, and still, her pictures appeared on his feed. Now, she was kicking sand into someone’s face at the beach. Pictures from training camp, with wide-eyed girls staring at her in admiration. She would send the occasional message, updating him on how being vice-captain was going, or some funny thing Miyuki sent her that day.

It was towards the middle of the break when Atsumu realized Fujiwara’s pictures stopped showing up on his feed. Curious, he checked her last update, which he had seen a couple days ago. With all the time off they had, had she run out of things to do? Possibly. Maybe she was just taking a break from social media. A reminder popped up, telling him he had practice tomorrow. Looking at the clock, he swore as he realized he had to get up in seven hours. Taking a break, huh? Probably a smart idea. More time to train, stronger opponents to beat. If Fujiwara was doing it, he should probably do it too.

\--

A few months had passed, and eventually, he forgot about Fujiwara’s lack of presence. She was busy, after all, being vice-captain and everything. Time moved along. Inarizaki made it to Nationals again. Their first game was at the same time as Honan Girls’. So much for seeing Fujiwara.

“There’s always the next day.” Osamu told him. As it turned out, there was not always the next day.

Honan loses, 0-2. Atsumu texts Fujiwara, sympathetic, and wakes up the next day, expecting a response. Wrong. Not even read. Whatever. She’s probably busy, consoling her team after a devastating loss. A day passes. Still not read. Another day passes. Not read. Another day. Not read. More days. The tournament ends. They go back to Hyogo. Not read. In his room, he throws his phone against the wall in frustration.

“Shut the fuck up!” Osamu yells from downstairs. Fine. He’s done making excuses for her. Maybe she ghosted him, didn’t want to be friends anymore. Decided that Miyuki was enough for her. Deep down though, he knew Fujiwara would never do that. Not her style. But he didn’t want to think about it anymore. If she messaged him again, he would welcome her back, and ask why. But until she did, he wasn’t going to waste his time waiting.

\--

Their third year, Inarizaki makes it to Nationals once again. They play Karasuno. They lose to Karasuno. As they face the tortuous walk out of the gym after their loss, they pass by an open door, where a girls’ match has just ended. Bulging koi eyes stare at him from the back of her arm. The spiker who just landed had wicked-looking tattoos up and down her arms. If she wasn’t at a high school volleyball tournament, she could’ve been a gangster. The ink twists and turns under the lines of her thick muscles. There’s a number one emblazoned on her jersey. The game-ending spike had made a deafening thud on the floor of the court, and the opposing team looks exhausted. Just as his team leaves the eyesight of the game, he catches the scoreboard and pauses, almost imperceptibly.

Honan wins, 2-0. He turns his head and moves forward. Atsumu will not look for her. Maybe she wasn’t even there.

\--

Time moves on, yet again. He graduates. There are no pictures of Fujiwara. He signs a contract with the MSBY Black Jackals. Fujiwara doesn’t know, wherever she is. He finds someone who makes him happy. An annoying someone with curly black hair, who loves to clean, is a jackass most of the time, and is frustrating as all hell. Whatever. Happy, like he said.

\--

They’re on their way to the women’s’ first match of Tokyo 2020. On the bus to the stadium, everyone is talking about the roster. Atsumu is tired, not paying attention to the conversation. He catches something about a “gangster-looking woman” who graduated from Honan. He buries his head in Sakusa’s shoulder, falling asleep.

\--

The men’s team is sitting in the in the front row, as the announcer reads out the list of names. Atsumu is barely paying attention, until he hears a name that makes his head snap up in shock.

“Junko Fujiwara, 27, a spiker from Hyogo!” His eyes lock onto the hooded figure that stands from her seat. Sakusa is trying to get his attention, noticing that something’s wrong, but Atsumu can’t hear anything except for the pounding in his ears. The Team Japan jacket comes off. The koi and the dragon on her arms are staring at him. Under the light of the gym, he notices that the skin under the ink is tinged with pink. He looks at her face. Scars. On her temples. Over her eyes. Crisscrossing her cheeks. She’s standing right in front of him. Dread washes over him, and he makes eye contact. Her weird blue eyes don’t have the same energy behind them. The corners of her mouth twitch. Nothing happens.

She looks away, expressionless, moving to her spot in the rotation.

“Fuck.” Atsumu whispers. “What happened, Fuji?” The game starts. He waits for Fujiwara to spike. When it happens, it’s brutal. There’s even more power behind it, more control. She’s ruthless. He knows how this game will end. He excuses himself from the gym. He sinks down against the wall in the hallway, head in his hands, grabbing and twisting his hair. He jumps as a hand comes down to rest on his shoulder.

“It’s just me. Calm down.” Sakusa rubs the back of his neck soothingly. “What the fuck happened in there, Tsumu? How do you know Fujiwara?”

He told Sakusa everything.

“Does she hate me? What the fuck happened ta her? I jus’ don’ know. Was there anythin’ I coulda even done?” Atsumu buried his head in his hands again. “Will she even wanna talk t’me?” His boyfriend sighed.

“I don’t know. But the only way you’re going to find out is if you go to her first.” Sakusa made a face under his mask. “I shouldn’t be helping you corner her, but it’s clear that you need this.” The taller man hoisted him off the ground and led him to an unmarked door that was apparently the locker room exit. “Fujiwara is going to walk through that door later tonight, and we’re going to be here when she does.”

\--

Sakusa was right, as always. The game had ended, and after the crowd had made their way out, the team was trickling through the door next to them. Their Team Japan jackets caught them friendly nods from the women exiting, but none of them were Fujiwara.

He and Sakusa had been waiting a half hour since the last player left. There was still movement from inside the locker room, and Sakusa, knowing the number of their female counterparts, had told him that Fujiwara was the only one left. He was contemplating the calluses on his hands when the door swung open and someone wearing a hooded jacket hesitantly walked out. Atsumu steeled himself, took a breath, and called out to her.

“Fuji.” Her steps stuttered, but she didn’t stop.

“Junko.” She froze. With Sakusa in tow, he approached her slowly. As he got close, she flinched, and he stopped, leaving several feet between them. He was about to open his mouth when a broken whisper left Fujiwara’s mouth.

“Atsumu.” He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from fidgeting.

“Christ, Fuji. What happened ta ya? I thought we were friends.” She lowered her head in shame, frowning. “Don’ be ashamed of how ya look. Be ashamed of how ya never said a word ta me.” He raised his voice, getting agitated. “I was so fuckin’ worried! And now, I see ya again for the firs’ time in years, and ya were gonna try an’ avoid me!” She flinched at the change in his volume, and backed up a few steps. He ran a hand through his hair to calm himself down.

“Sorry, sorry.” His voice quieted. “I shouldn’t ‘ve yelled. But as your friend. Don’ I deserve at least a few words? Why didn’t ya ever talk ta me? Was I not worth that ta ya?” She removed her hood, and looked at him. Her eyes were empty.

“Sorry.” She said, matter-of-factly. Fujiwara had regained her composure and her walls were back up. “Stuff happened.” Atsumu couldn’t help but retort.

“Obviously.” He continued, more serious this time. “Do ya hate me, Fuji?” She shook her head.

“No. But.” she tapped her foot, anxious, “Nothing’s the same anymore. I’m different. See things differently now.”

“Different how? I care ‘boutcha, Fuji. Please?” She contemplated his words, then zipped up her jacket.

“Follow.” She turned away from them and began walking towards an exterior door. She led them aimlessly around the stadium grounds, telling her story.

“First year, there was a third-year. Liked me. A lot. Confessed to me. Rejected him. Got obsessed with me.” She kicked a rock that fallen onto the path. “Started stalking me. I didn’t know it. Then summer came. Bastard grabbed me one night when I was going back to the dorms.” Fujiwara ran her fingers over her scars. “Took me to some abandoned building. Had a knife. Cut my face up. Set the whole place on fire and left me for dead.” As she finished her sentence, her voice trembled. “Guys scare me now. Keep thinking that one of ‘em might finish the job.” Her voice wavered even more.

“Fuji. Junko.” Atsumu murmured her name softly. He opened his arms, and waited for her to come to him. She gingerly closed the distance between them, with cautious steps and wary eyes. She stood close to him for a moment, then threw her arms around him. Fujiwara broke down, sobbing into his shoulder. Carefully, he rested his arms around her shoulders. “’s okay. Cry as much as ya want.” Gradually, her crying subsided, and she detached herself. She glanced at Sakusa, who had been standing awkwardly behind them.

“Sakusa.” She said to Atsumu, out of the man in question’s earshot. “Is he important to you?” He nodded. “Then he’s important to me.” She moved past the setter and stood before the dark-haired man.

“Is Atsumu important to you?” Her fists were clenched so hard that her knuckles turned white.

“Yes.” She extended a shaking hand to towards him, fighting her body’s instinct to shy away.

“Take care of him.” Sakusa carefully grasped her hand, holding it gently.

“I promise.” Then, slowly, he pulled Fujiwara into a hug. As he pulled her in, he watched her eyes carefully, and he settled her arms around her shoulders when she didn’t try to get away. She stood still for a moment, shocked, and then awkwardly put her arms around him. When they separated, Sakusa sunk into a crouch and looked up at Fujiwara. “I’ll make sure he won’t get into any trouble. You have my word.” She nodded, then turned back to Atsumu.

“I… cut myself off from everything that happened before the injury. Wasn’t coping healthy. ‘M sorry.” He reached out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“The past is the past, Fuji. All we can do now is get ta know the new us.” He smiled at her. “Ya kicked ass then and ya kick ass now. I think we’re gonna be fine.” Her smile lit up the night sky like a star, and Atsumu relished in it.

“We’re gonna be just fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wasn't really sure how to end this so i went for something kind of hopeful. 
> 
> please let me know if i should update or change any the warnings. i want all my readers to have a safe experience, and that includes having proper trigger warnings.
> 
> find me on twitter [@umiyan1000](https://twitter.com/umiyan1000)


End file.
